#Laura x Massimo

[writingmyimagination]

Never let go ~

Massimo x reader (may get a bit steamy.)

Tw: choking, cussing, smut

“One year…. One year have I wasted on a man who will never change.” I write in my journal as I look up and out the window of the plane as Massimo huffs annoyed leaning against his chair mad I’ve refused to sit near him. You see unlike Laura I choose to be with him thinking he’d learn after she ran off with his gardener. At first it was bliss and we would shop, have dinners, and travel. 

But as fate unfolded with the months he could never let a part of her go fully. Times I’ve spread myself thin to please this God like man, the change in clothes from my usual classy elegance to a more sexy look for him, the unusual taste in art that I know he had commissioned for her. If it were up to me I’d burn them all in our courtyard one by one and light a cigarette with the flames. I hear him shift angrily either at the fact his wife refuses to look at him or even breathe in his direction or at the sexual tension between him and our flight attendant knowing I would turn the whole plane around if he even dares to act on it.

“If he leaves again I’ll disappear I swear it to this book and to myself, I deserve the world at my feet. Not this sour bitter treatment as if I was Laura. I have done nothing to cater for him and yet I find my cup empty while his is full, full of life, fun, and excitement. While I am expected to wait for him, submis—“ I feel a large hand wrap around my throat, his hot breath tickling my ear as his hand gives a warning squeeze. “Mi amore, are you fucking kidding me? Disappear?” He lets out a stiff chuckle as I feel his other hand swiftly grab my journal and throw it against the wall of the plane where he was once sat. “As if you could stay hidden long enough for that to happen, I’d search under every single rock and cave to find you.” I tighten my lips together as I look off to the side seeing the flight attendant staring at us, want and desire pooling desperately in her eyes. “(Y,N.) are you really going to be this difficult, acting as if I was some random man you could throw a fit with and I’d just let you be.” His free hand playing with the hem of your white mini dress going up to the middle of your chest where we can see the golden v accentuating your cleavage. “Massimo, please.” I croak out, half in annoyance and in desire because I know what lies in the next few moments to come. He lets my neck go and I take a deep breath, he moves to the front where I can see him towering over me and does something shocking.

Massimo has knelt in front of me with soft gentle hands he moves them up my calves to my knees and spreads them apart. “W-what are you—“ he gives me a look. “For once shut the fuck up.” He reaches under my dress and rips my lace underwear off me. My hands go to rest on his bicep as he pulls my hips closer to the edge of the seat, his lips tickle my inner thighs with kisses leading up to a long teasing swipe of my glistening folds. A deep primal groan emerges from his chest as he hungrily laps at the pooling wetness between my legs. Soft moans leave me as I shiver under the unfamiliar sensation of his tongue making its presence known. Massimo wasn’t one for giving but always receiving. This is a whole different feeling entirely.

My eyes roll back as he continues determined to make me gush sweet juices all over his face. His sweet prize for having to put up with my mood swings as he calls them. He knows Laura is gone, but she gave him a feeling he couldn’t describe but you, you were his weakness. The one thing that could bring him to his knees and possibly lose his mind, hence why you were his wife he lost you once over his own mistakes but that wasn’t happening again.

The pooling desire swirling in the deep of your tummy was nearing the edge, asking to be released as your legs tighten against his strong hands. “M-Massimo keep going please, like that.” He smiles against your folds as he continues, his tongue swirls in circles around your clit and he moves a hand further up, once at his destination he inserts his two middle fingers slowly, angling them upward just to brush along the wall. He can feel you tighten around his fingers and at this point he’s ready to hoist you up and impale you with his long, girthy shaft. But he knows you need this, you need to feel cared for before he can have his own way with you. He feels your legs tremble as you struggle to breathe and he takes everything you give him, lapping each drop as if he hadn’t drink anything all day not wanting to waste a single drop, the overstimulation of his tongue pressing your bundle of nerves until he finally stops and look up. “Beautiful.” He whispers before placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh and getting up, he sits next to you and pulls you close to his side. “Stop acting like how you have been this whole trip, (Y,N).” He kisses the top of your head as you regain consciousness from cloud nine. “Massimo everything I wrote is true it’s how I feel…” I look up at him. “You aren’t fully here.” “Bullshit. Bella I am here I’m right fucking here, I got on my knees for you do you understand how much you mean to me? Outside of this.” He motions around with his hand. “I’d kill for you. I should’ve never left you for her. She was the devil in disguise, a fucking demon.” He grabs your jaw, “but you.. you are everything pure, sweet, and perfect. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did to you. I may not be the perfect man or husband but for you I am willing to try.” You both lean in and share a sweet kiss before hearing a ding. “Please buckle your seatbelt the captain with start our descend soon.”

[thebadboyfanclub]

Fire and Water Pt. 5 (Massimo x Reader)

Look my guy I got inspired by the song Trust issues the weeknd remix and shameless Camilla Cabello, this might need multiple parts but I have seen you guys ask for it and I think it’s time for me to serve and for you guys to eat… also I would like to say thank you to @severewobblerlightdragon I have noticed them liking my stuff and almost always lives a comment I really appreciate it.

Part 4

The way (y/n) took over Massimos house resembled to a tiger being released from its cage, authority suited her as she strolled around with her chin high and her eyes making grown men shiver and scurry away after mumbling “yes, miss”.

Massimo observed her with his lips in a thin line and his hands curling to a fist, however he knew that any type of reaction would cost him an unbearable amount of power, her family was the only one that came to his aid, the only source of support and protection if he moved even in the slightest way that displeased (y/n) he would be left with nothing.

“A charity ball?!”

“A way to celebrate your success and show to everyone you are left unbothered and unharmed, a gracious move to invite every important person from our cycle and reconcile while standing tall despite the attempted assassinations”

“If you want to wear a fancy dress do it somewhere else, I thought we were supposed to protect this house not let everyone in”

“We accept people that have been exclusively invited by Ass, people who matter, your reputation is at stake, the great massimo has the tail between his legs and is hiding behind his stone walls”

“I am not hiding”

“It doesn’t fucking matter what you have been doing, that is what they are saying, the charity ball is happening like it or not, the invites have already been send out, but your… wife a dress and you better mingle with your guests, like a good and generous host. Got it?”

Massimo identified the assertive tone in (y/n)s and gaze that could burn his entire house down, he could also see his advisor Mario nod at him behind her back, a way to stir Massimo to not push (y/n) further.

“Fine, make your preparations. I am sure if you try hard enough the ball will be decent”

“It will be better than the fiasco Laura had caused, she danced on a pole while somebody called her a whore right?”

Massimos hand slammed on his wooden desk while his other hand instinctively his right hand reached for his gun and pointed it right at her chest. The scary part wasn’t that (y/n) was held at gun point, nor the expression of fury in Massimos handsome face, it was the devilish grin that decorated (y/n)s lips, unfazed by the situation completely.

“Amateur, if you really want to kill me, you aim at the head”

She instructed while her fingers wrapped around the gun and let it touch the skin on her forehead. Massimo was a man that was never afraid to use his weapons, still the way that she did not even blink, better yet she teased him about it left him speechless.

“Massimo put the gun down”

“No, let him, what are you waiting for? Just so you know if I die you will have a bigger problem than a dead body, but an entire empire running after you and my brother wanting your head served in a silver platter”

“You think I am scared of your stupid brother?”

“No, no you are not, you are however scared of me. Even if you plant a bullet between my eyebrows you will never, ever get rid of me”

-

As always (y/n) had gotten her way and the charity ball was buzzing with people, the band she had hired played wonderful music, the staff kept the glasses of champagne full and the platters of small little delicacies going.

Massimo had his hand on Laura’s waist as they went to greet the guests, a United couple that scoffed at the missed jabs of their enemies, at least that’s what they portrayed.

The music came to a halt as a slight sound of the champagne glass summoned every guests attention. As Massimo looked up at the start of his stairs he was met with (y/n) smiling brightly with a glass in her hand, “she finally showed up” he thought

“Our dear guests, I apologise for interrupting any conversations but we have all night for chatter, me and my family would like to thank our dear friends Massimo and his family that were so kind to extend their hospitality to us, I would like to take this moment to raise my glass. To you and your wives success, both of them beautiful, kind and strong despite all. Cheers to the perfect couple”

Everyone clapped and took a sip, to anyone that did not know any better this was such a gracious gesture, a declare of loyalty and a announcement of the two families being allies, to Massimo this was a hit below the belt, to sarcastically smile and praise his wife after everything that has taken place.

Regardless of it all he took a slight sip as his grip to Laura tightened, he wanted to kill her, grab (y/n) by her pretty neck and snap it like a twig, his eyes followed her figure when she went down the stairs.

God was she bewitching, a sight for sore eyes in her dress, the most infuriating part about (y/n) is that he always left him in shambles, to kill her or to fuck her? That is the question

“(Y/n), I have to say that speech was very kind of you”

“What can I say I have a soft spot for love, we started off on the wrong foot Laura, that does not mean we should continue that way”

She was lying, Massimo knew that much and what was worst is that Laura was buying it, his wife believed that (y/n) was genuine and did not just plan an evil scheme to ridicule him further. (Y/n) reached for Laura’s hand to give it a slight squeeze of comfort.

“I am delighted you chose to wear the dress I send for you”

“It was the best out of all how could I not?”

“And you look good in it too, I will catch up with you two later, I must say hello to someone”

(Y/n) was over the moon, just the look on Massimos face made it all worth it, his hands were completely tied and there was nothing she could accuse her of, hell she had even mend her relationship with Laura and now all eyes were on Massimo.

(Y/n) approached the person she was interested in, the only man that made it look good while being completely out of place.

“So you must be… nacho? Right?”

“Yes, and you are miss (y/l/n)”

“Precisely, although I must say nacho does not suit you”

“It is only a nickname”

“I can definitely think of others that would be better”

“Is that so?”

His eyebrow raised at the sneaky way of the woman that weasels her way in his reader, he had seen her walk around the garden, a striking presence could not be missed by any man and she had been captured by his baby blue eyes, the man was sculpted by the Gods and she just so happened to be in need of a hobby. (Y/n) bit her lip as she swiftly nodded at him, the look of a helpless innocent doe that she held worked its magic on him as his pearly whites appeared at a grin.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about your work, people say you are… good with your hands”

“Such flattering words miss (y/l/n)”

“Would you like to show me your… works?”

“Whatever miss (y/l/n) wants she gets right?”

“Lead the way then and please call me (y/n)”

Her voice barely above a whisper as she said her name. Nacho only left his glass on a stand before he let his hand touch her waist and escorted her out of the mansion, what the man had not noticed is that as they went in the garden and away of the eyes of strangers Massimo had silently followed them, curious to see what was happening, who was he? Why was (y/n) walking away with him? He could barely hear what they were saying until they reached a more secluded part and stopped, (y/n) rested her back on a wall as she held her glass of champagne.

“Have you always been interested in gardening?”

“No, I like trying new things”

“That sounds promising”

“I must admit I had my eye on you”

“I noticed”

“You are a very interesting woman”

“I know, I must say you have a lot if potential… if you are up for it”

Massimos blood boil at the sight of (y/n) so sexually flirting with a man, she had never been like that with him, why would this low life get to have her while he could not even get a bite? Nacho placed his hands at either side of (y/n)s face supporting himself on the stone wall, she looked mesmerising under the moonlight, her chest rose as she took in a deep breath.

“I have never been afraid to get my hands dirty”

“Kneel”

She command him, Nacho took the champagne glass from her hand and took a sip before he leaned to connect his lips with hers, at the slight part of her lips he was able to pass a small amount of the champagne in her mouth making the kiss even more thrilling.

He pulled away from her to do as he was told, his one hand went underneath her dress to caress her leg from her ankle and up bringing goosebumps along her spine.

“Obedience becomes you”

“And we have only just began”

Nacho had kept the glass only to take a big sip of what was left of it and throw it away, quickly he lifted her dress and allowed the liquid to ran down the part that ached the most, the cooling sensation made her hiss before pleasure took over.

Massimo stood dumbfounded as he watched from the bushes his (y/n) have such an intimate moment with someone beneath her, he could imagine how good it would feel if he sliced his throat right at her feet, or maybe he should fuck her right there and make him watch. In reality, he froze at his spot as (y/n) let a few audible moans slip past her lips, he should leave, spare himself the fury of being a bystander.

(Y/n) could feel the thrill of nachos skill take over her, not only was the man between her legs extremely qualified, she was also aware of whom it was that had followed them and was now sneaking a peek through the woods, just the image of Massimo being helpless and having to endure the show of her become undone with another was enough to send her over the edge.

To have a gorgeous man please you while risking exposure while simultaneously getting on your first loves nerves was the biggest aphrodisiac that no money could ever buy. Once she felt herself slowly shimmer down she guided her hand on nachos chin and ran her thumb over his swollen lips before leaning down to plant a peck on them.

Massimo saw something beyond the pornographic scene, the movements, the lust in her eyes, the need to blow off some steam in that way. She was no longer the person he knew way back when, (y/n) had become… like him.

“You are so… good, now go”

[fashionbooksmilano]

Boetti/Salvo

Vivere lavorando giocando Living Working Playing

Saggi di Bettina Della Casa, Francesco Guzzetti, Giorgio Verzotti e Laura Cherubini. Con le testimonianze di Giulio Paolini, Massimo Minini, Paul Maenz, Pier Luigi Pero, Giovanni Michelagnoli, Alessandro Nieri, Gian Enzo Sperone.

Edizioni Casagrande, Bellinzona 2017, 360 pagine, 22 x 28 cm, ISBN 9788877137685 

euro 59,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Mostra Museo arte Svizzera italiana 9.04 - 27.08.2017 Mostra e catalogo a cura di Bettina Della CasaB

Il racconto dell’amicizia tra Alighiero Boetti e Salvo e del loro “braccio di ferro” artistico.

Fotografie, frasi, ricami, dipinti e disegni, ma anche viaggi e altre avventure nutrirono il loro rapporto tra il 1968 e il 1972, anno in cui Boetti si trasferì a Roma. Con oltre 150 immagini a colori, fotografie inedite, saggi critici e testimonianze di amici e compagni di strada, il volume documenta quella  breve ma intensissima stagione, fino ai diversi sviluppi degli anni successivi. Una sezione del catalogo presenta inoltre la Torino dell’Arte povera. Opere scelte di Giovanni Anselmo, Alighiero Boetti, Pier Paolo Calzolari, Luciano Fabro, Piero Gilardi, Mario Merz, Marisa Merz, Aldo Mondino, Giulio Paolini, Giuseppe Penone, Gianni Piacentino, Michelangelo Pistoletto, Emilio Prini, Salvo e Gilberto Zorio testimoniano gli esiti più significativi di quel momento, nonché il vivace clima intellettuale in cui Boetti e Salvo si trovarono a operare e che contribuirono a costruire.

19/06/23

orders to:     booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

ordini a:        booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

twitter:@fashionbooksmi

instagram:         fashionbooksmilano

                         designbooksmilano

tumblr:               fashionbooksmilano

                         designbooksmilano

[magicalgirllove92]

You know, yesterday is the 30th anniversary of Backstreet Boys. While today's the 25th anniversary of another Mariah Carey banger. The romantic/sad ballad My All released on the radio. While NBC was causing a stink for cancelled Debris, the spiritual successor for The X-Files and the spiritual successor for Lost show Manifest (at least, Netflix rescue the show and ready for 2nd part of super-sized final season this summer) and released the goddamn tacky Jurassic World meets The Twilight Saga meets Land of the Lost meets Mase in Abyss mashup ripoff telenovela without the lovable characters, they have a balls when the network released the 2-part movie Merlin debuts on April 26th, 1998. After the mayhem hilarity cartoon-y of The Simpsons and King of the Hill on FOX, people in America have turned in to the now beloved NBC/Hallmark miniseries and felt amazed deeply within their bodies. Magic, villains, Frik the goblin, badass moments and pure (Thank God. No toxic romance Bella and Edward, Gavin and Eve and Massimo and Laura style detected) romance blooms between Merlin and Nimue. Pretty crazy 25th anniversary week of pure "no toxic crap" love power.

[loisfreakinglane]

365 Days: This Day (2022, dir. Barbara Bialowas, Tomasz Mandes)

Later:

[fiftyfiftyinla]

“The Next 365 Days” Final Chapter

August 19th, 2022

[coolcatkerr]

Laura + Massimo | Shameless | 365 DNI

Song: Camila Cabello - Shameless

Right now, I'm shameless Screamin' my lungs out for ya Not afraid to face it I need you more than I want to

[dearest-alexander]

Hither and Thither- 365 DNI fanfic

Summary: She saved him, in so many ways a man could be saved. Massimo x Laura. 

Author’s Notes: I’ve uploaded this on AO3 & FF. I’m more active there, than here. Please check the sites for updates. 

Read it here:

Archive of our Own

Fanfiction

CHAPTER 1

The Don was talking about something.

The gentle, raspy voice was contrary to the cunning, dangerous man his father could be.

"Molto bene, molto bene, Mario." His father exclaimed in that giddy tone and slapped the man's shoulder, sitting in the front passenger seat. The man gave his father's hand a reassuring squeeze.

He couldn't help but wonder if his father's animateness was a good or bad thing. Being in the family business, the terms are sometimes... interchanged, by certain and normal people anyway.

"What would we do without him?" His father, the Don Torricelli, continued, looking at him for acknowledgment.

"A couple of fun things, for a start." He jested, earning a chuckle from his father and Mario.

Mario was his father's most loyal friend and confidant. He was there ever since he can remember. He was practically family, almost like a second father to him. But he was the strictest man he knew, even stricter than his father. Though, not more dangerous.

He gave a deep sigh and settled in his seat, switching his attention to the familiar scenery of Cefalú.

The familiar streets and alleys blurred as they passed. Locals and tourists alike flooded the white sandy beach. Their big umbrellas providing color to the already-rich scenery. Food carts swarmed the shore, providing refreshments in the scorching Italian summer heat. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the heat.

Everyone one except him.

It was the heat. If there was one thing he hated more than disloyalty and disobedience, it was the fucking heat. He almost didn't want to come today because of it.

But he had to.

"It's part of learning the trade." Mario reminded him this morning— just as he had done on more than one occasion.

Not that he wasn't interested in what his father does—which he was, a hundred percent. But there was this, sort of, defiance. Knowing that the choices he wanted to make have already been made for him, gives him a compelling urge to rebel. To break free and try his own luck in the business.

He wanted to step in, take over, show his father what he's capable of. Show him, without words, that his son was ready to take over. He wanted to see the notorious Victorio Torricelli actually grow old.

He wanted his father to finally surrender his gun in exchange for a quiet life. Because, he was aware that a lot of people in their way of life don't and won't have the same option.

But, like a young cub, he's shunted of his efforts.

"Learn how to walk first before you can run, figlio."

Despite his personal afflictions in anything that involved emotions, he loved his father. He revered him more than anyone else. His father might be the only thing in this world he truly cared about.

And money, of course.

The car stopped at their destination; a restaurant in the middle of a marketplace, right at the heart of the town. He exchanged a disapproving look with Mario through the rearview mirror. It was unusual for the Don to pick such a public venue for a meeting.

He was not hiding his objection and tried persuading his father to change location since the day he knew.

"Pa, it's too public. You can't be serious."

"Ah, figlio. Always worrying about me."

And why shouldn't he?

When your father's the most feared, most dangerous man in Europe, you learn to sleep with a gun in your hand.

As accustomed, they waited for a few minutes for their detail to secure and check the place. He usually assisted them, but under this weather?

No fucking way.

Mario and his father fell into a quick conversation about when they were teenagers. His dad had retold countless stories about his and Mario's prime. Just two privileged Italian legacies, against the world.

"You remember those girls at the beach?"

"Ey! Didn't you sleep with one of them?" his dad chirped.

"No, I didn't!"

"You did! You son of a bitch!"

"I slept with two!" Mario carolled, making him think of something gross.

They laughed, that good-natured laugh, he could aways expect from them.

He only half listened and continued to ogle at the mundane events happening before him.

The crowd was a river of people from all walks of life. A riot of colorful clothes under a huge tent of different loots and merchandise.

Everyone seemed to move from all different directions. The cacophony of blabber outside reverberated even on his tinted windows. Heat radiated their jolly faces. He could easily spot the tourists by their awful hats and big ass cameras hanging around their neck. And the locals, with their loud and rude gesticulation.

There was music coming from the makeshift stage on the beach. A few sunburnt, drunk, and barely clad guests were swaying to the bass. If everything went as planned today, they could stay the night here and he could slip to the rave.

His eyes fell on the bookstand a few feet west from where their car was. A couple of skateboard punks wheezed through the stand. One of them nudged the corner of the table and mountains of books toppled on the sandy pavement. He could hear the owner screaming at the kids, who didn't even turn back. His face was crimson with anger, a book threatening to fly from his hairy hand.

A petite woman with dark hair scrunched under a floppy hat, approached him. Her light skin was a fair contrast to the blue summer ensemble she's donning. She squatted down to help the poor man.

It startled him for a second.

Kindness has always been a mystery to him.

To him, kindness was the coercive reaction and result to fear.

Nothing in this world has been ever genuine—he realized that from a very young age.

Must be a foreigner. He thought. No local could be that generous.

He watched as the man, who appeared flushed all of a sudden, stood up, books recovered under his arms. The lady, who still had her back to the car, offered her gathered books back to the vendor. She must have said something because the man was nodding in a very vigorous manner. She then proceeded to slide her fingers on the display of books.

The merchant was still staring at her with a stupid smile on his wrinkled face. The woman picked up a book. She showed it to the man who nodded and grabbed a bag from under the table.

He observed, with an amused and curious expression as the people passing by the tent all did a double take at the woman. Some women narrowed their eyes, as if envious while all men have sheepish grins on their faces.

He sat straighter in his seat.

Turn around, baby girl.

The woman was and completely in her own element. He found himself transfixed by the way she's skimming her slender fingers on the book stacks

He caught himself and frowned.

What the fuck?

"Cosa pensi, Massimo?" His father asked.

He whipped his head back to his father, and tried to look anything but distracted.

A knock rapped Mario's window, saving him from his father's inquisitive brow. Outside, Domenico, his half-brother, gave them an assuring nod.

Mario got out first, before him and his father. Perspiration trickled down his neck in an instant. His hair clung in clusters on his nape.

He cursed.

He couldn't understand how anyone could enjoy themselves when the weather was dry and as hot as a desert. He could feel the gravel smoldering beneath his shoes. He might as well ask one of his guards to fry an egg on the sidewalk to prove the point to his father.

His father knew how much he hated the Italian summer heat.

"Whoa! Hot! Hot" His dad smirked at him, a teasing glint in his eyes. He was fanning his hands with an exaggerated flair before an umbrella came to his aid.

He groaned and rolled his eyes at his father. Taking pride in himself that he was the only person allowed to do so.

Six men from the entourage, stood beside them as they walked towards the restaurant.

Upon entry, they're welcomed by the loud blabbers and aroma of Mediterranean dishes.

"Buon pomeriggio."

A tall, lean, olive-skinned woman greeted them, her dark eyes lingering on him the most. He removed his sunglasses and tucked in on his dress shirt.

He heard the woman's breath hitched.

He couldn't help the smug smirk that formed on his lips.

Mario stepped in. And the woman bowed her head, as if finally recognizing the dangerous men before her. In an instant, she cast her eyes down and moved out of the way.

May be I'll have my fun with her later.

Domenico lead them to a wooden staircase and outside the balcony. A couple of diners were there, seated under their own umbrellas. Cocktails, appetizers on hand.

Great. More parching heat.

He walked to a secluded tent in the corner, away from the impertinent eyes and ears of civilians.

Two men were already sitting under the canopy, waiting, looking angst.

As they should be.

They're negotiators for a new venture his dad was looking into.

They lowered their eyes as they shook his father's hand. Their adoration was plain on their faces.

But were they real though?

He learned that love and fear, like good and bad, have interchangeable terms.

In this lifestyle, anyway.

Their men spread out and around the perimeter. Their authoritative presence was alarming some of the guests, who didn't hesitate to up and left.

His father and Mario sat down across the two men. While he maintained his distance.

This particular time, he wasn't allowed to join them. Considering what happened last week, he's banned from all negotiations until further notice.

He stood over the railings to past the time and asked for the binoculars from his guard. He occupied himself with the arid and suburban landscape of Cefalu. The heat was emanating from all surfaces and buildings. It's making him even more thirsty than he was

"Get me a bottle of beer. Ice cold. Have that beautiful lady receptionist bring it up to me."

Alek, his guard ever since he was sixteen, nodded and left.

He was looking out into the water when he heard the heightened pitch of his dad. He put the equipment away and observed.

From the pronounced scowl on his father's face, he could assume that it won't be getting any better. His future plans to sneak out later this evening was automatically canceled.

His father stood up and raised his hand in a dismissive wave.

That was the end of the discussion.

He looked pissed.

But as soon as the Don met his gaze, the old man smiled, the corner of his eyes shining with mischief.

"Fucking opportunists." His father cussed, clapping him on the back.

"You want me to talk to them?"

The Don shook his head and glanced back. "Mario's handling it." He gestured to the binoculars. "We don't want you threatening them away again, do we, son?"

He simpered, "But it's so much fun."

"Figlio, sometimes, you have to compromise. We have to make sure that we have certain people on our side exactly when we need them to be."

"I don't think you need anything or anyone else anymore."

His father laughed, removing the binocs from his face. "Have I thought you nothing?"

That's when he realized what how he must have sounded.

"Non accontentarti mai, anche se hai tutto, Massimo." His dad reiterated, forcing another smile from him. "Don't ever-"

"Don't ever settle. Even if you have everything." he repeated. "I know Pa, I know. My bad."

His father grabbed his shoulders so he was facing him. "And you do your best not to forget it."

He beamed down at him. "Sì."

His father cupped his face, like when he was a kid. The dark eyes, feared by many, gleamed with a raw and familiar with emotion.

And he knew why; he has his mother's eyes. His father often told him that he could still see her stubbornness alight in them every time they talk. He placed a hand on his father's forearm.

"You're-" He heard a sharp whoosh of wind and his father's sentence abruptly stopped. The paternal smile faded and a shocked expression replaced it.

His mind and body went numb.

Behind them, someone shouted. And chaos breaks.

He held his father. One hand on his shoulder, the other on the gushing wound staining his chest.

What's happening?

He was trying to keep them upright, but he felt weak, like someone's, something, was sucking the life out of him. His father slipped from his hands and dropped on his back.

His world went into a complete standstill.

A tight, burning pressure permeated from his torso and he fell down. Arms splayed out, the bright, yellow sun, blinding him.

The men were running, their guns poised in the air. The guests on the balcony scrambled down the staircase, screaming their heads off. He saw a flash of blue before he heard Mario shouted different orders to the men.

He closed his eyes and tasted the rust on his tongue. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound ever came. A pain shoot from his side, like a thousand hot electric needles pricking him. His muscles were tense. He was sweating, but at the same time felt like someone poured a bucket of ice cold water on him. He coughed and thick, warm liquid spurted out of his mouth.

No.

He became aware of his heartbeat slowing down, its weak thumps vibrating in his ears. The excruciating pain doubled, paralyzing him even more. His breathing became shallow, fast, gasps. He heard his name shouted over the dry wind.

Domenico.

Domenico crouched down and shook him. He slapped his face, his expression livid.

He and Domenico loved wrestling and kick-boxing, since they were kids. Being older and bigger than Nico, gave him a huge disadvantage; he always wins. Nico doesn't have a chance.

He almost wanted to taunt his brother and point out that this is the first time he couldn't get up to beat his ass.

"Wake up!" He grabbed the lapels of his shirt, pulling him up. "Don't you dare die on me!"

He winced, both from the pain, shaking his entire body and his little brother's trembling voice.

Idiot.

Leave me alone, Nico.

He never felt so exhausted.

Papa, Go to Papa.

He wanted to sleep.

Leave me be.

He just wanted to fucking sleep.

Domenico stopped shaking him. Somebody from behind grabbed his brother away. Domenico cried out, struggling to get back.

Get him out of here. Get both them out of here.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. He heard voices, so many voices. But they're muffled, like someone put cotton in his ears, drowning him out. He could feel each footfall vibrating on the ground. Somehow, he couldn't feel the heat he felt from it earlier.

He only felt the cold.

Good. I hate the fucking summer.

Everybody seemed to have abandoned him.

Finally.

He wanted to rest.

Time to rest.

But then, a shadow fell above his closed eyes, blocking out the blistering sun. A warm, soft hand touched his, raised it and pressed it on his chest. He felt it ran over his face, leaving tingling, warm impression.

It surprised him.

Without warning whatsoever, the warm, comforting sensation pulled him back. Away from the cold, drab void sucking him.

Then, the warmth left him, as swiftly as it came.

No.

Come back.

It was a struggle to open his eyes. But he did.

He blinked and sees someone, a woman, hovering over him.

Why does she look so familiar?

Then it hit him.

The woman in the bookshop.

The moment his eyes focused on her, she seemed relieved.

He felt it resonate through him.

Somehow, she appeared brighter, more unbearable to look at than the fucking sun above them.

She removed her floppy hat, placed it behind his head and used it as a cushion. She smiled down at him. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying.

He concentrated on her dark eyes, and even darker, almost, raven hair, flowing freely over the wind. Her lips were pink and soft as a carnation in full bloom. Her nose, tall and prominent. Her jaws, chiseled to look at but felt so delicate to touch.

He felt the remaining air knocked out of him.

He wanted to reach up and caress her beautiful face, but his body wasn't cooperating with him at the moment. Because everything hurts.

Everything fucking hurts.

The woman worked above him. He couldn't tell what she was doing. But his eyes bulged out of its sockets when he felt her, pressing her hand, hard, on his side.

He looked down and saw her holding a blood-soaked napkin on his torso. A sharp pain lanced through him, making him bite on his tongue. He closed his fist around hers.

Please, stop.

The woman cradled his head, soothing him. Her sweet, but firm voice, muffled by the pain. "We have to keep applying pressure. You're alright. You're okay."

The discomfort from his side was making it harder to think. He saw colorful spots flashed before his eyes, merging and splitting into thousand circular patterns. He let out a strangled scream and held the woman's wrist.

Make it stop.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts. But I have to, okay?"

Her face swam back into focus again, clearer than everything and everyone else.

Her hair was falling around her face. He wondered what her hair would feel like wrapped around his finger. He wanted to tuck it behind her ear and see her blush.

He wanted to see it more than anything else.

"It's okay, you're gonna be okay." He heard her cooed through the haze before then she roared, "You work for him?!" Her voice as sharp as her face.

"Ye-yes." He recognized Alek's voice, the only one in his men who can speak English.

"Okay!... Bring me a flat surface... No… I don't care! Break the table, if you have to! He needs to be lying down!"

He never heard someone yelled at his men like that, not even his father, not even him. This tiny woman was barking orders to his people like she fucking owns them.

Atta, girl.

He felt his body spasm out of control; he was trembling again. This time, it's more unnerving than the last. The consciousness, he was trying his best to hold on to was slipping.

He was falling through the empty, dark space again; the space he knew was reserved for people like him.

"Hey! Hey! I'm here! I'm here!" she shouted at him, raking her fingers through his hair.

That felt good.

"Look at me."

And he did.

Her eyes were enthralling, it felt like they were the only thing keeping him here. It felt like it would hurt more to look away.

What color are they? He mused.

A flashback appeared before his eyes- a forgotten memory. He's eight again. He's baking. His mom was laughing beside him. He missed her laugh. She was letting him whisk the melted dark chocolate for the cake. She dipped her fingers in the bowl and bopped him on the nose.

Mamma.

"No, no no." he heard the raven-haired woman again. Her voice, disembodied like she's talking from behind a veil.

The wonderful slender fingers stroke his jaw again, like she did those books. "Stay with me." she said. Her tone was the borderline between a plead and a direct order.

He wanted to laugh. Nobody orders him around. But he did as he's told.

"That's it. Eyes on me." She uttered with her big, penetrating eyes.

Gray. Her eyes were gray, like the color of a giant sea storm.

"Where's that table?!" she howled again.

He kept his gaze on her, trying to name and decipher all the grays in her eyes.

If his life wasn't ebbing away, he would've found the situation ludicrous. The great Massimo Torricelli was finally taking his time gazing at someone else's eyes for the very first time.

And the last time.

How fucking twisted is that?

"Stay with me. Stay with me. They're coming." She whispered. One hand was holding his head up, the other was still in the gnashing bullet wound, applying pressure. The blood spilling from him was staining the blue romper she's wearing. He felt sorry. Why does he always have to destroy beautiful things?

I'm sorry. He almost wanted to say.

Dying really does bring the firsts out of people.

"Hurry up!"

He stared at her beautiful, angelic face, committing everything in his memory.

"Stay with me." she murmured again, flicking her eyes to his face and wound every now and then.

His dry lips cracked into an agonized smile. He wanted to comfort her, tell her it's alright.

But he knew.

He'd always known.

From the very first time he pulled the trigger.

Nobody's coming to save the devil.

He stopped believing in God decades ago. But in these few moments of limbo, he realized that this- seeing her for the first and last time- was the cruelest punishment he could ever have.

He clutched her hand with his shaky ones, rallied the remaining power in his body and choked, "Mio Angelo."

And the darkness welcomed him, like the prodigal son that he was.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

5 years later.

Warsaw, Poland

-I'm so sorry. I'll come over tomorrow. I promise, B.

She received the reply a few seconds later:

-Girl, it's okay. I have my wine and a half naked Paul Wesley on tv. It's fine, I'm not thinking about whatishface.

She texted back, guilt shrouding her:

-Are you sure it's okay?

Again, she didn't wait a second for her response.

-I am! Go and kick their ass, Laura. x

The text elicited a smile from her. She shoved her phone in her bag and storms the elevator.

Furious was an understatement.

She's supposed to have dinner with one of her best friends tonight. But because David Sawicki can't do his job properly, she's stuck here for the next hour. She heard the echoes of her most prized heels on the floor tile. Her fists clenched beside her, her lips pursed in a straight line. She felt the anger emitting like, from her skin.

The employees on either side of her parted and flattened themselves on the walls. She made her way to the board room, avoiding anyone's judgmental gaze.

They don't know what happened. Let them look.

She reached the heavy wooden door of the conference room and pushed. There were only four people in the room.

"Good evening, Miss Biel." Oskar, the PR manager greeted. She returned his warm smile and sat on the empty swivel chair next to him.

James, the head of their security sat in the nearest chair by the door. Marissa, the senior head's secretary was eyeing up the bastard sitting across her. But Sawicki was ignoring her. He was ignoring everyone in the room, except her.

She met his belittling gaze.

"Have you packed your shit already, Miss Biel?"

She sneered back at him. "Shouldn't you be asking yourself that question?"

Before he could make a comeback, the doors opened and the senior head entered.

"Good evening." Hayden Marek addressed the room, his eyes glued on the stack of folder he's holding.

Without further ado, he took his seat at the center of the table. "Now, can anyone please explain to me what the hell happened yesterday-"

The room was quiet. Her eyes remained on Sawicki, challenging and unfaltering.

Marek raised his voice. "-And how the fuck did it happen?!"

Sawicki was quick to point fingers—as the child that he always has been. "Why should we ask Miss Biel? Excuse my language, but one needs to have balls to have this job."

The room turned to her.

"Miss Biel?"

"First of all, it's not my fault." She started, cool, calm, and collected.

"Listen, Ma'am-" Sawicki butted in.

"I haven't finished yet." She hissed at Sawicki. "As I was saying Mr. Marek, it's not my fault. I'm in charge of bookings and reservations. It has never been my job to temper rowdy customers."

She narrowed her eyes at Sawecki. "And I think you should explain to us, why in the entire building there are only two security guards in the building? I remember explicitly suggesting that we need more. Since the band is Beatles level famous. I remember telling you that at our briefing, Mr. Sawecki."

Beside her, she could feel her friend trying to hide his smile.

"I booked the band at our hotel on purpose. They're at the top of their game and we need the publicity. We gave them and their team the best rooms. We even closed down the bar and buffet room to give them their privacy. Me and my team went to them ourselves and asked for anything they might need. Even if it's not part of our job."

She continued, holding everyone's attention. "Everything was going smoothly, until a roadie got past security and caused a scene. One of the members got mad because we promised them privacy."

Sawicki was speechless. He knew the story himself, having happened before his eyes.

"The roadie sent messages, bragging how she got in. And before we knew it, a legion of slutty teenagers bombarded the lobby. The band barely got out. If it weren't for the efforts of my team. I dealt with the press and strategized a new approach so we wouldn't lose our loyal customers and patrons. I'm proud to say that we are now booked for the next four weekends." She slid the reports to Marek, whose eyes widened at the numbers at the bottom part of the paper.

Yes, keep the ugly, greedy man fat with money.

Marek averted his annoyance to Sawecki. "You, in my office. Right away." And he stood to leave, James and Marissa followed him.

She leaned forward, elbows flat on the table. "This is exactly you need balls for."

Sawecki glowered at her before turning his leave.

Oskar clapped a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Good job, girl." And he too left, leaving her alone in the big, cold conference room.

She gave him another amiable smile, hoping it'll ease the tension in her chest.

Unlike many, Oskar is different. She felt at ease with the old man. Oskar was probably her only friend in this building. Most of them either feared her or wished her out.

They were unsuccessful with that last part.

But she has to admit, she's tired of this. Men constantly disparaging her and her achievements.

Because of what? Her gender?

Unlike those dumbasses she met in med school, she presumed that men in the hospitality sector would be more... non-discriminatory. But no. All men appear to be the same sensitive, egotistical and easily threatened rats she experienced them to be.

Yes. Even her boyfriend fit the bill, sometimes.

Men always tell society that they need strong, intelligent, independent women. But what they really want were cheerleaders. Someone to boost and feed their ego.

She exhaled the deep breath she was holding.

Calm down, Laura.

To distract herself, she checked her phone for the very first time since lunch.

Still no messages from Martin.

"How surprising." she scoffed.

She has never been the clingy type, but a simple short text after a long day at work would ease her stress.

She and Martin had been dating for four years already.

He came up to her at a hotel event and made an actual fool of himself to get her attention. She thought it was cute. Two years into the relationship, she sold her apartment and moved in with him. One year of living together, he proposed. And to this day, she didn't know what came over her to say yes.

For the past few months, they've been having more arguments. His reason? She's spending way too much hours with her work and no time for him at all. And she felt guilty, because it's true.

Thus, she's been trying to redeem herself. She tried to come home early, prepare his food and do other stereotypical duties of a good fiancé. But still felt... insufficient. Like something was missing.

Olga was having none of it. She hated the man. Unlike Bianka, she has never warmed up to Martin, even after all theses years. "You fool, don't settle for that lazy, bald freak. You're not his maid. Let him wash his own smelly gartered underwear." and she added, for good measure,

"Passion is essential to every relationship, as important as love."

Olga was always the voice of reason- whenever she wanted to be,

But she loves Martin.

She felt passionate about him.

She loves him.

Right?

If that wasn't love, why did she buy their tickets to Sicily for her birthday weekend? Why did she booked those romantic getaways? Martin was pretty excited about it.

That's love.

"I love him." she convinced herself. "You love Martin, Laura. Stop overthinking it."

The door creaked open again and the maintenance guy went in, pushing his mop cart. The man stopped and apologized.

"Przepraszam, Miss Laura. I thought it's empty."

"No, no. It's fine. I was just leaving" She smiled and gather her things. "Have a good night."

"You too, miss."

The floor was now empty, except for the cleaners who waved in her direction. She waved back, sincere and friendly.

As she was about to press the elevator button, when Oskar called her from the doorway of his office.

"Laura?"

She turned. "Mmm?"

"Marek told me that he wants to meet with you tomorrow. His office at 4."

"What?" She couldn't help but the thrill in ringing in her voice. But she toned it down. "Why?"

Her friend jiggled his eyebrows at her. "I don't know. Marek called me to say that Sawecki no longer works here. The General Manager position is open."

Laura squealed and hugged the man. She has not been working her ass off for four years to settle for the beta position. She knew she deserved so much more than what they're already giving her.

"Thank you, thank you!"

"Hey, all you sweetheart." Oskar kissed both her cheeks. "As an early gift, I have my driver take you home."

"What, no-"

"No buts. Besides, I have a date. A very hot date."

"Oh! Where'd you meet him?" She teased.

"Now you know that I don't kiss and tell, Laura sweetie."

"Kinky! I love it."

"Now get your ass out of here, Conrad is already in the lobby."

"Thank you so much." She enveloped him another tight hug before hurrying down the elevator.

Her mind was still reeling from, the possibilities of her promotion. She went over her mental list of the changes she could make to the management. This was probably the best birthday present she's ever had in years.

As he promised, Oskar's driver was waiting for her. Conrad has always been shy around her. He was standing by the passenger door and opened it as she approached.

"Dziękuję Ci." She smiled.

The man turned pink and nodded.

She didn't need to tell him the directions since Oskar has offered to take her home countless of times. Most of those times were, when Martin forgets to pick her up.

It wasn't a long ride, only a good thirty minutes—including the traffic. She could take the cab, if they weren't too damn expensive this time of year. If the bus fumes wouldn't kill her, she would literally take the bus every single day.

She was in her third year of MED school when her grandmother fell ill and died. Due to debt and budget constrictions, she's forced to quit the one thing she cared about the most.

She loved medicine, she loved studying it. The lengthy explanations, crucial step by step procedures, the jargons appealed to her.

With the death of her grandmama and her quitting medicine, she had a relapse and fell into a mild depression.

That's when her body developed it.

She was out with Olga that day she first fainted. She thought it was only panic attacks but it became more frequent. She consulted her doctor and found out she has Supraventricular Tachycardia. In simpler terms, she has a heart palpitations. That meant that her heart was beating more than it normally should. Her condition causes her to, sometimes, pass out and hyperventilate. This prevented her from engaging in strenuous exercises, smoking, stressful situations and caffeine.

She hated it. Everyone who knew has treated her like she's something fragile, like, she'll break at the tiniest push. It was disconcerting. So, she decided to keep it a secret, that even her parents didn't know.

She had no plans to tell Martin because it might affect their relationship—which it did. He accidentally found out a few months after they moved in together.

She couldn't tell anyone at work, except of course, the HR manager. She couldn't let assholes like David Sawicki get the slightest indication that there's a chink within her armor.

The only persons who do know were her college best friends, Bianka and Olga, and her doctor.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Martin.

Finally.

Hey honey, I'm coming late from work. Don't wait up for me.

Wanting to prove to herself that what she felt for him was still valid, Laura smiled deviously. She glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure Conrad wasn't looking where wasn't supposed to.

She unbuttoned her blouse, down to the last three buttons. She recorded a video and captioned it with:

Aww. But they miss you.

When he didn't reply in the first three minutes, she sent him another. She hiked her skirt to her upper thighs, widened her thighs and snapped a picture.

I miss you.

She was feeling hot that she slid her fingers on her inner thighs. She kept her moans to herself.

She waited for his reply, but it didn't come. Not even when she reached their apartment.

The frustration was twisting her abdomen, evil and needy. Martin's coming off late ever since... she couldn't remember.

A few weeks ago, he's required to put extra hours for the insurance firm he's working for. It was a slap to her face; she's finally having a taste of her own medicine. But she didn't pressure him on it. Nor complain to him about it. She loved a hard-working man. Besides, that way, he could finally get off her back for doing the same.

But as a consequence, she's left… dry and unsatisfied. With only her toys and fingers for company.

She sighed and threw her bag on the hook, and shook her hair out of her bun.

She took a quick look around.

At least, he left the apartment clean before he left this morning.

Martin was the messiest person she knew. Seriously, how hard is it to throw your wet towel in the dryer? Or put the scissors back where he got it from?

The knot in her abdomen tightened and she bit her lip. She went to check on her phone.

Still nothing from Martin.

She called him, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Oh, fuck it."

She poured herself a glass of wine before going to their bedroom. Even though she's alone in the apartment, she closed the door as a form of habit.

Martin doesn't like it when she pleasured herself.

She pulled out her special drawer and grabbed the black toy hidden among her sweat pants. The sight of it alone made her insides clenched in excitement. She took s huge gulp of wine and began to undress herself.

Her fingers traced her curves, slowly. The pads of her thumbs brushed over her nipples. She let out the loud moan she's been holding in the car before she switched the vibrator on.

The buzzing filled her ears, making the fire in her belly burn even more. She grazed it over her bra. Her nipples erected in their lacey confine. She removesd the clasp of her bra, to her own slow pace, and shimmied out her drenched undies. She lay on the bed.

There were certain advantages of studying medicine. Aside from treating other people part, this was one of them.

Shew was gasping now. Her hand was rolling the toy over the sensitive spot. Just the right amount of roughness, if not, more. Something Martin could never do, no matter how many times she told him how.

Her moans rocked their stilled apartment. She arched her back as she pumped against her own palm, using her legs and feet to meet her strokes.

She bit the back of her hand as she felt the white heat dripping from her. Her back landed back on the mattress and she waited for her heart to slow down.

But she knew she could take more.

God.

She could take so much more.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

365 DNI : Question

After watching a second time the movie, I’m wondering if the sex scenes are as fake as they are saying, because : 1) During the blowjob, you can clearly see that the girls have something in their mouth which really looks like a penis (with blood vein and everything).  2) During the cunnilingus, you cannot tell me he did not spit on her vagina.  3) And finally, during the intercourse on the boat’s front, the drone shows you clearly that bolls are there, but the penis is not here. Press pause and you will see it.

I’m waiting for your verdict : fake or real?

[elenacarey]

That awkward moment when you realize your best guy friend looks like Michele Marrone.

[importantkidspyfarm]

Ramblings on 365 Days: This Day

SPOILERS! Duh. This is not in any order.

They listened! They got rid of that stiff ass wig. So happy. I could've lived with the new one it was more natural looking.

I wasn't expecting much but damn they gave us nothing. They took 50 minutes to introduce the plot. And even then it was rough.

How long after the tunnel accident was the wedding? Who was the pregnant lady on Massimo's side of the aisle? I'm assuming the new henchman is a cousin.

Not them banging before the wedding. Okay nasties.

I thought all of the wedding and was going to be a dream and L was gon' wake up in a dungeon with Anna opening the door with today's lunch and a recent article with a photo of him and her together.

How did she survive the tunnel. What was the accident? She came out unscathed but lost the baby?

I feel bad for Michele Morrone, he barely has any lines and his character is the only one that has an effect on the plot and we don't follow him.

We don't hear the vows! We hear nothing of the wedding! I can live without the vows but we never hear the priest say anything. Not even "Introducing mister and missus Torricelli" not even the reception of their first dance. No toasts from Olga or Domenico. No O catching the bouquet. Ugh. Maybe it's not a polish thing.

Laura's parents funny. They said "you chose this life with some man you've known a month, deal with it" got up and did a waltz like their only daughter isn't going through a marital crisis. Then mama confronts him with so much energy where was that at the ball.

Anna needed to be more apart of these movies from jump. Did Nachos dad kill Massimos dad? Mass' dad was right his son was not ready to be a Don. All the Spanish family and Anna's family have to do is wait the Toricelli empire is crumbling.

Not ho antics at the golf course!

The sex scenes weren't hitting like last time. I know that's why we all watched in the first place but the first one had something happening between them. That boat scene told a story. It was maybe perfect and these ones were just happening to happen.

Robo-mower.

Not them going to a beach mere feet from a smoking volcano. Do they not know that ALL VOLCANOES ARE OVERDUE FOR BIG ERUPTIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STAY AWAY!!!!!!!

Nacho is hot but has creep face.

Were all the sex scenes with Nacho dreams?

You'd think being kidnapped once Laura would be more careful.

Lampone!

Domenico. Tongue.

How long have Mass and Dom been friends? They let that whip cream go in stride. Are you not embarrassed?

Did Olga use the clamp on him? Do your Kegels They work.

Who hired Nacho as the gardener? He didn't even lie about who he was. Who is Massimo's house manager? They need to be fired immediately. How do you not know who the eternal rivals heir apparent is? Also Massimo, have you never looked out the window?

Hoe long has he been the gardener? Days? Weeks? What was the plan? Have Nacho work for him until Mass finally looks at who the hell is on his staff. He's a mob boss he should know.

Not ho antics behind the bandstand! I live.

Massimo is learning. Laura said she missed working/the challenge of work and bought her a job.

The sex toys, where are they from and if I buy the whole set at once can I get 10% off.

I thought Massimo and Dom were going to drive into Laura with Nacho in that one scene.

So no one is going to acknowledge that Nacho showed up looking like a reject from a Ed Hardy/Christian Audigier runway, like a backup dancer for Christina's Dirrty era, like a fake Kevin Federline. Nobody? Just me? Okay.

What exactly is she in charge of at the label? Design? Management? The fashion house is it tacky or am I not rich enough to understand?

That triple six lies song (the kitchen scene) 👍

They introduce so many story lines and never follow them.

Was Nacho's sister his sister or his "sister"?

I wish we saw them as a married couple. Even fifty shades focused on their domestic life.

The scene when Laura walks in on Olga and Domenico was cute, get it girl, also I'm embarrassed.

"We're back to our normal life, baby girl." Normal for who? Not y'all. This all started with an abduction. Normal would be locking the bedroom door from the outside as he leaves.

How in the hell do Laura and Massimo converse? Both have other native tongues.

Not once did Laura ever inquire what was going on with the business. If he needed anything to relieve his stress. Like sis it's the least you could do instead of whining that he's always at work

If the mafia don tells you we need to leave you need to leave.

EVERY pair of sunglasses in this movie is fire as hell.

Massimo is stressed because of mafia stuff but never once do we know who, what, or why? Until the very end, and even then I'm not sure if those are connected.

Once again the soundtrack is bad and loud and distracting. There were more likable songs. This movie would benefit from muzak.

So Andriano is who killed the dad?

Didn't want or need to see dudes face get blown open. So, Anna had a plan to kidnap L from the party also? Why not just take her when she was stunned at watching you fuck her husband? Does she not have henchmen? What would have happened if Anna succeeded, what would Nacho and family have done? What if L decided to stay at Nacho's during the last meeting?

Wait!?! The Matos family is in cahoots on kidnapping Laura? But also not? Was there a double cross? Triple?

Tongues the movie. Let me go overseas and research if they all kiss like this.

I need to hear the sounds of sex. Playing music is great but I need to know they are real people. The scenes with Olga & Dom have natural sound why not Laura & Mass?

I am hot goddess [falls on face].

Laura too soft to be a mafia boss wife. She act so tough but has been easily kidnapped twice.

Nacho took her to a new house after the attack?

The heart condition. Where is it? I'm hoping it comes in to play in the next movie. The final act would've been a great time for it to comeback. Instead of her getting shot she could've had a cardiac event from all the stress of being kidnapped AGAIN. Held at gunpoint by her husband's coke-head twin brother and ex-lover. It's much more devastating.

Laura and Olga are living the dream. Two best friends marry best friends.

Did L and Nacho have sex or not?

Expanding? How Sway? Last movie they lost an entire shopping container of drugs.

Did his sister not know who Laura was? Is she aware of the family business?

What did they send Massimo on the phone?

Miss Laura maybe you need to be single. Went from Martin to Massimo to Nacho. Two of three were started with kidnappings.

Is the Matos family the reason Laura lost her baby?

Laura complaining about not wanting to be a kept woman. Boo! Shut up. Open an Etsy store. Get a hobby. Get a job. Hell she was in hotel management, promoted to GM. Open a hotel.

He gifted her a fashion line because she likes clothes. I like astronomy, don't mean I know how to run NASA!

Massimo should've hit Laura with that, "I'm working to keep your ass in Gucci and gold" (Zeke McCall, Love and Basketball), when she get to complaining about him working all the time.

Massimo, it's your house drop the towel, walk around naked. It's your right.

Does he ever smile? Not even on Christmas? At your wedding? Did he crack one when Dom and Olga got engaged? I know that's the character but a part of why we like this type of character is because when he's with her he's different. He smiles. He laughs. He cracks a joke. She just gifted you coochie, that's funny, smile.

Alright, she's worn this same set of Fiacchi drawers like eight times.

Dom is newly happily engaged while his BFF's marriage is falling apart. Ah!

I want the adventures of Olga.

Olga tossing other people's presents aside so she can give Domenico his. A reckless queen.

Pussy for Christmas? Thanks, I had it yesterday and (probably) this morning, but I guess you can never have too much? She couldn't have bought him a watch with an inscription or something? I can't lie, I hate buying gifts too, plus he rich as hell, what else was she supposed to give him?

All the dates with Nacho should've happened with Massimo. I need to see the love not the banging.

Didn't Mario betray Mass in the last movie, he's why Laura never makes it out of the tunnel (and lost the baby)? Why did he allow him to retire? Also wasn't he conspiring with Anna?

How did Adriano know she was pregnant? L only told Olga and she was only a few weeks pregnant by the time the accident happened and had not seen a doctor.

I need to see them be nice to each other. This was a lot of aggression.

I need the third book to come out so I can buy the set and get to reading to fill in some gaps.

My wife, his girlfriend, was taken and is in grave danger we must find her. [Leisurely model struts the entire way]

At some point this movie turned into a music video.

Is Nacho going to be a thorn in their relationship the next movie, cause he apparently has real feelings?

If they want to make a movie focusing on Olga and Domenico I'm down. They cute.

My rewatch of 365 Days

[namuhdasyrev]

Me patiently waiting for the next 365 days to come out so I can get more fanfiction of Massimo to read COZ i just know girls are gonna be crazy for him!

[fashionbooksmilano]

Venezia porta a porta

Fotografie di Massimo Nordio

Introduzione di Piero Fròsini

Edizione curata da Laura Casalis

Franco Maria Ricci Editore, Milano 1981, 110 pagine, 23,5x25 cm, ISBN88-216-0327.X

euro 35,00

email if you want to buy : booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Il vasto labirinto d’acque chiamato Venezia racchiude un immenso lascito artistico e culturale, tanto ricco da abbagliare e sopraffare. Per chi la sappia esplorare con amore, la città si rivela un’altra, meno evidente, più segreta, ma davvero unica. Per chi avesse il coraggio di lasciare l’imponente patrimonio delle arti “maggiori” alle comitive organizzate, e volesse cercare il senso e il ricordo di un mondo nelle sue più modeste e quotidiane manifestazioni, potrebbe scoprire per esempio la misteriosa poesia delle maniglie e dei battenti metallici di cui sono ornate le antiche porte. Raccolti in questo volume, questi gioielli nascosti, presentano al lettore una Venezia “minore” ma carica di tradizione, che si dischiude solo agli occhi del visitatore che fa del suo girovagare per la città un’avventura sempre nuova.

22/07/23

orders to:     booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

ordini a:        booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

twitter:@fashionbooksmi

instagram:         fashionbooksmilano

                         designbooksmilano

tumblr:               fashionbooksmilano

                         designbooksmilano

Blaze

0 note

[loisfreakinglane]

365 Days: This Day (2022, dir. Barbara Bialowas, Tomasz Mandes)

[enemies-to-lovers]

365 Days | Måneskin - I Wanna Be Your Slave

[dearest-alexander]

Hither and Thither Chapter II- 365 DNI fanfic

Summary: She saved him, in so many ways a man could be saved. Massimo x Laura. 

Read it here! I’m not that active in Tumblr. Check these sites for updates. 

AO3 

FANFICTION

CHAPTER II- Search and Rescue

Sicily, Italy

He was staring at the ceiling fan for what almost felt like hours. He was hoping, in some way, that the blades whirring above could distract him from his overworked brain.

He couldn't sleep. He didn't want to.

By some reason, the nightmares were more constant these past few weeks. He would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating; his mouth in a half scream. His hands instinctively going to his side, to the scar that hurt the most. He was expecting the warm, thick liquid seeping out of him, draining his life. One spill at a time.

Sleeping was not an option anymore.

And as the stressful nights increased, thinking of her became the automatic alternative.

The only alternative.

As it had been for the past five years.

He closed his eyes, recounting the only and best part of that day.

The raven-haired, dark eyed beauty.

Stay with me. Her voice resounded.

For five years, he's haunted by her image, the sound of her voice, the gentle warmth of her hands. For five years, he's been trying to fill the void, she unknowingly opened. And for five, long years, he's been scouring around the world to find her.

No one could confirm that she was real. Except Alek whose description of the day solidified his determination to find her.

She saved him.

All hell broke loose once they exchanged gunfire. A stampede ensued in the marketplace. Alek managed to drive through the commotion, the woman was still with them. She refused to leave him, even as his other bodyguard, Theo, threatened her. Even then, as they reached the packed hospital.

They rolled him to the emergency room. But en route, due to blood loss, organ failure and shock, he went straight into cardiac arrest. Alek told him how, without hesitation, the woman jumped into the hospital bed, straddled his chest and revived him.

She had single-handedly brought him back. No medical instrument needed.

When he woke up a few days later, the woman wasn't there. Nobody could tell him who and where she was. She didn't leave anything behind. The hospital CCTV cameras didn't get a decent snap of her. The swarm of victims from the stampede, and their relatives didn't help either. He didn't fret about it. He thought that with his connections, he'll find her in a heartbeat. He was complacent, he could find her.

How wrong he was.

From the way she acted professionally, they speculated she was a doctor or a nurse. Or something related. He ruled out her being a doctor, because she looked no more than 30.

Unless she's some kind of prodigy.

He began his search again in the hospitals in Cefalú. Then to local clinics, schools, then volunteer groups, and laboratories. When she wasn't, he tried the nearby town. And the next town. And the next town. And the next. The whole country. The continent. It took a whole solid year.

Sensing that he might've misjudged something, he changed his focus to airports, then to hotels. The tourists that visited the country, spanning to three to six months that summer. He started with Cefalú again. But, even that was still unsuccessful.

It was arduous work, he was aware of it. It's about to be the craziest thing he'd ever done (and he did plenty). But nobody had the gall to call him crazy. Not to his face, anyway.

To be honest, he almost wanted to give up. He wanted to accept defeat for the first time in his miserable life. Without a single progress over the years, he had questioned himself if she was even real. But whenever he did, he would try to distract himself on the endless queue of ladies on his bed.

But the harder he tried to forget her, the memory became more vivid, more real. All his efforts to forget her will be futile. He's back to square one. He'll eventually find himself scanning the reports his people will give him the next day.

What was it about that woman that makes her so damn hard to forget?

Her tenacity?

Her kindness?

Her willingness to save a stranger?

Save him?

The questions were making him restless all these years. He wasn't used to not knowing, not having the thing he wanted. He figured it'll all be answered when—not if—he finds her.

Sometimes, he would daydream of the day he'll finally find her. What would be the first thing he'll do? He didn't know a single thing about romance. He reminisced about those sweet things his father did for his mother when she was still alive. All the things he could remember from his 8-year old memories. He figured, he'd thank her first. Wouldn't that be a first?

Then take her to dinner?

Give her flowers?

Take her shopping?

Give her jewelry?

All that romantic shit he swore he'd never do.

He recalled the old conversations he had with his father. He'd tell him how he met his mother, how she made the notorious Don Victorio Torricelli puny in her arms.

"Women are heaven for the eyes and hell for the soul." His father would tell him.

And he would add, in a cheeky tone. "And purgatory for the wallet."

But he had a tingling, annoying feeling, she'd be worth every euro. Hell, she could spend all his money and he wouldn't care less.

He had never had a more disturbing thought than that.

The woman next to him stirred and snuggled closer to him. She kissed his chest and opened her eyes.

For a moment, he anticipated the gray eyes that tortured his dreams and reality. Instead of the haunting grays, the eyes staring back at him in wonder were deep violet. Like amethyst —cynical, majestic and arrogant. A true reflection of the woman beneath.

He looked away, disappointed.

She was beautiful, perfect, powerful, flawless in every way, even he could admit that. With her dirty blonde hair, tan complexion, long legs and lean physique, men and women bow at her feet.

She was a good diversion, a good release for all the pent up frustration of his existence. He could tell that it was the same for her. For the first few years, anyway.

"Awake already?" She asked against his shoulder, clutching the blanket keeping her decency. "How can I never tire you out?"

He stretched his arms above him and under the pillow to his head. He watched the fan blades again, nonchalant to the kisses she started. Her hand started trailing downwards, tempting. But not tempting enough.

"Fermata."

"You weren't saying that earlier." She said between kisses. Her nails raking his abdomen, down, down.

There was nothing more irritating than disobedience. He clasped her wrist. "I said, stop."

He threw the covers and picked up his pants, phone, and his gun on her bedside table. He didn't need to look at her to see or feel her violet eyes digging holes in his back. He was buttoning his shirt when she spoke.

"Ti amo."

He sighed, his fingers couldn't close around his buttons faster.

"Ti amo, Massimo." She repeated, a little louder this time.

He raised his eyes and unsurprised to see her glistening eyes. "Don't make this hard, Anna."

She sat forward, the blanket, no longer her concern. It slid down her breasts, pooling down her wide hips. "Why not?"

Fuck, why are women so complicated?

He knew he should've gone to Magdalena or Althea instead.

He didn't answer her. He grabbed his suit jacket over the chair, but before he could put it on, he heard her said,

"It's because of her isn't it? That woman."

He stopped, but remained his position- his back to her.

He heard get up, her naked feet treading on the wooden floor. To him.

"You thought that I wouldn't find out that you're still looking for her? After all these years?" Her voice, croaked yet poisonous.

He muttered a curse. A jealous Anna was as dangerous as a hungry lioness.

"Don't you think it's time to give up, Massimo? It's pointless. You will never find-"

The remaining patience in him snapped. He faced her, his hand immediately closing around her throat. He felt a sense pride surge in him when he saw the flicker of fear in her violet eyes.

"Don't."

Anna grabbed the hand holding her throat and faked a confident smirk.

"You will never find her." She enunciated in a tone meant to dishearten him.

He tightened his hold on her jaw. And the fear in her eyes pulsed.

He hissed, truth staining his words, "And you will never be her."

Her eyes widened and he swore he heard something inside her iciness, break.

He released her.

Anna stared at him, her eyes watering. He should be sorry. Or apologize, or feel remorse, feel something, whatever people fool themselves with. But he doesn't. The cavity where his heart would be was only a hollow, corrupted emptiness.

Fuck manners.

Fuck tradition.

Fuck Mario and his dream of marrying a Torricelli to a Rizzuto.

"I can't do this anymore." He said.

And this time, he knew he meant it.

He passed her and put his jacket. He headed towards the door, not the very least concerned that Anna might point a gun on him.

She, of all people, knew better than that.

The mansion was dark and empty, but her men lurk every corner. He went down the grand staircase, the candles on the walls were his guide. He heard and saw his and Anna's guards huddled around the table in the foyer. They were knee-deep in a game of poker. And from the boisterous shrieks of her men, his team was losing. Domenico was laughing, but when he met his eyes, he cleared his throat. The men scurried with their spoils, stuffing them in their pockets.

The car was already outside. Alek opened the door for him as he checked his phone. Beni, his IT guy, sent him the reports he's gathered for the day.

He flipped through the profiles of women as they drove through the night. All of them were raven-haired, has dark gray eyes, aged 25 to late 30's. Single women, married women, lesbian.

What if she changed her hair now?

Or what if she was wearing contact lenses that day?

What if he already found her profile, but missed it?

Worse, what if she's married? Or has a kid?

He exhaled a sigh of frustration, leaned his elbow on the door and pinched the sides of his nose.

Where are you?

Beside him, he could feel his brother smirking at him.

Without taking his eyes off his phone, he warned. "If you don't stop peeking, I'll gouge your eyes out with the same toothpick you're using."

Domenico tittered with amusement, but looked away anyway. Unlike everyone else, his brother still supported his foolish pursuits.

He was caught up with his task when Domenico reminded him,

"Mario's asking me if we're still going to Rome tomorrow... er in a few hours?"

Ah. Fuck.

He glanced at his clock, 3:12.

"Tell him we're leaving at 5. We'll be back here at 11."

"Va bene." Domenico simpered, chewing on his toothpick.

Massimo closed his eyes and her image intruded his darkness again. Her delicate steady hands. A pair of eyes that were the darkest of grays that resembled the storms at sea. And her radiant smile that was nudging something, waking something in him.

I'll find you.

I'll find you.

Whatever it takes.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warsaw, Poland

The sandwich her assistant left for her was sitting idle, cold on her table. It reminded her that she hasn't eaten her lunch yet. Or her breakfast.

She's been working on her lateral and sales report she thought she could give to Marek today. If Oskar was correct (he usually is), she'd be getting that promotion today. Though, no one in this company comes close to her credentials, she felt that she should still secure it. She hadn't stopped since last night. Even when Martin came home at 1 in the morning.

Her nails tapped against the keyboard in unwavering determination. The classical piano music she's listening to was helping her concentration. She worked on her keyboard as if they were piano keys, an instrument close to her by heart.

She's only two words away when there's a knock on her door. From the corner of her eye, she saw her assistant peeked her red head behind the door.

"Miss Biel?"

"Yes?" She answered, without taking her eyes off her screen.

"There's someone here."

Oh, God. Please don't be Martin.

They had a little argument today. Again. This time, it was about the empty carton of milk he keeps putting back in the fridge. They had a little scream fest, thus the reason for her lost of appetite. She was finally seeing the pig Olga was describing. But still, she felt regretful when he stormed out of their apartment. In a day, they'll be travelling to Sicily and she wouldn't be caught dead going alone on her own birthday. Let alone, be alone in an airplane.

She frowned, "Who?"

Her assistant opened the door to reveal her long-time friend.

The second her eyes landed on the baggy sweatpants, she knew something was wrong.

"Bianka!" She pushed her chair and strode towards her. She pulled her into a tight hug and nodded to her assistant, who closed the door behind her.

If Olga's the craziest and loudest person, Bianka's always been the most timid, the prettiest. She's the heart of their little group, their valuable asset. Put Bianka in front of the group and they're sure, bouncers would let them in, people would part and give them way. Men, women craned their necks whenever she passes by. They never pay for their own drink in the bar— much to Olga's pleasure— whenever Bianka was with them. She lost count of the times Bianka saved their asses with her power of persuasion and flirting. She had the charming face and the body of a supermodel that everyone envies. Mile-long legs that look good in any dress, plump lips, a sun-kissed complexion, shiny brown hair that went past her waist.

But instead of the straight brown mane, was a disheveled nest for a hair. Bianka was a mess. Her clothes were baggy and wrinkled. It's a wonder how she got past security looking like that.

"What happened, B?"

Instead of answering, Bianka returned her hug and sobbed.

"There, there honey. Come, sit." With her still in her arms, she sat them on the nearby couch in her office. "Is it Russo, again?"

Like a plaguing curse to every beautiful woman, her friend decided to fall in love with yet another jerk. Though, this time it was an upgrade from the alcoholic she had before. This time, it was a user. They broke up not more than a month ago, but she tell could from the tousled appearance of her friend that she's not over it.

Bianka raised her head from her chest and shook her head. "No." She snuffled. "Well, not entirely."

"Oh honey. How many times do we have to tell you." She wiped her friend's tears and offered a handkerchief from her pants pocket. "He's not worth your tears. Nobody is. You're too beautiful for him anyway."

She continued, her tone half joking, half serious. "Can you imagine your children? I wouldn't forgive you if you ever had his children. I mean, poor little things Just, biedne małe rzeczy." She clicked her tongue.

Bianka let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, we will have ugly children."

"See? Cheer up B."

Bianka sat up, grabbed her hankie, all the while keeping her head down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there with you yesterday." she apologized, the guilt creeping up her stomach.

"I told you, it's okay. I know how your work is important to you." Her friend took a lighter tone and met her eyes. "So, did you kick Dexter's ass? Or whatever his name was?"

"Like you have to ask?" She chuckled and sat with a leg under her, her hand behind her bun. "You're now looking at the general manager of the Regent."

"Shut up! Shut up! Are you serious?" Bianka's face brightened with pride. She and Olga knew how long she has been waiting for that promotion.

"Well, not yet. The Senior asked me to go to his office later today to discuss yesterday and something." She replied, applying the quotation marks on the word "something".

"Well, I'm so proud of you. You deserve it." Bianka beamed at her.

And an idea hit her. She stood up and grabbed the handset from the phone on her marble coffee table.

"Sophia?" She called her assistant. "Won't you come over here, please?"

Within seconds, Sophia came at her door again. "Yes, Miss Biel?"

"Please book the same flight for Bianka Antos. She's going with me to Sicily tomorrow. Put it on my card. That's Bianka, with a K and Atnos as A-T-N-O-S. Check my book for her details.

Bianka's turquoise eyes widened. "No, Laura, no."

She smirked before adding, "Could you also go with Conrad to get my things in my apartment? Send it here. I'll talk to Oskar."

Sophia nodded, her hand still on the doorknob.

"That would be all Sophia, thank you."

And her assistant left.

"No, Laura. I can't let you—"

"It's already done. Sophia is very efficient. We're leaving 7 am tomorrow." She waved her cellphone, showing the confirmed flight. "See?"

"I can't, Laura. You can't"

"Yeah, I can." She insisted.

"I have—"

"Please. It's not like you can't bat your eyes at your boss, who, I think is the perfect match for you." She teased, before getting up to check on their reservation on her laptop.

Better cancel that queen-sized bed too.

"What about Martin?"

"We had a fight this morning. I don't think he's coming." She shrugged, unfazed.

"Why? What about?"

"Nothing. Something stupid." She replied with a resigned tone.

Bianka patted the empty space next to her, the spot she vacated not moments ago. "Tell me."

Bianka's always felt happy with her and Martin's relationship. She was their cheerleader. Unlike Olga, who was more vocal about her dislike and disapproval. When Martin proposed, Bianka cried as she congratulated her while Olga didn't talk to her for three days. Bianka's always been the one person she could go for a Martin-related advice. If there was someone she could vent out right now, Bianka was the right person.

"I'm not so sure if I should still marry him." She admitted, quite surprised by how steady she sounded.

"Why?"

"I… I don't know." She shrugged again. "Am I crazy? Or this was just cold feet?"

Bianka gaped at her, her smothered eyes, deep and pensive. "You don't love him anymore?"

She seemed startled by the question and answered in reflex.

"I do." And she repeated for good measure, as if it'll make it true. "I do."

Bianka cocked a groomed eyebrow at her.

Deep down, she knew. She had a feeling she had always known. Something about last night and this morning was the final straw. She sighed.

It was Bianka's turn to pull her in her arms. "Oh, honey."

"I'm okay. I'm okay." She appealed, hugging her friend back. "I just have to be sure."

They fell into a comfortable silence, until she heard Bianka mumbled,

"If you want my two cents, yeah, you should break up with him."

She gave a bittersweet laugh, pulled away and held Bianka's shoulders at arms length. "Who are you and what have you done to Bianka, the manager of Laura and Martin's fan club?"

Her friend looked relieved. "I'm happy if you're happy… Now." She clapped her hand on her knees and got up, enlivened of a sudden. "If I'm going with you to Italy tomorrow, I got some persuading to do. What was I thinking going here dressed up like this?"

She chuckled, "Glad to have you back."

"Do you have clothes here?"

Being the Sales Director, she's privileged enough to have her own office.

The wide window allowed her a view of the garden. Her office has its own powder room. A three-seater mid century blue couch and two white armchairs laid for her guests. Displayed on her walls were gold rimmed glass shelves lined with decor. At the center of the space, resting on the finely crafted carpet was her glass computer desk. It wasn't as big and luxurious like what Sawecki had. But it was enough for her. She was content with having her own space for a change.

She nodded. "Yeah. Check the cabinet in the bathroom."

"Please tell me that I won't find that same outfit in there." Bianka complained, pointing to her clothes with disgust.

She looked down herself. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, a matching black long sleeve and black pumps— her work clothes. "Why? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nobody died, Laura. Why are you always like somebody died?"

She laughed. "Go, get cleaned up. I also have some make-up there." She got up and fetch her phone again. "I'll call Olga, see if she wants to come too."

"Yeah, but you know what she's gonna say. You know how she is with Italy."

She stopped, her fingers hovering on the button.

She could still remember it as if it was yesterday. What's supposed to be a relaxing summer vacation became one of the most unforgettable moments of her life.

Some five years ago, Olga's cousin, Remri, invited them for the summer. Laura fell in love with the place. Everything about Sicily was a dream come true. From the landscapes, the culture, the ancient architecture, the people, the food. Everything was going well. Olga even met and hooked up with an Italian guy from Cefalú whom they met in one of the clubs.

One summer day, they drove down to Cefalú to see where the guy lived. They stopped by the marketplace because two of their colleagues wanted to check it out. Bianka and her boyfriend at the time went to find a restaurant while Olga and Italian guy stayed in the car. She didn't wanna be around with all the moaning and frolicking so she left them.

She was dawdling around, fascinated by the souvenir shops when Bianka called her. She told her to meet them at this Mediterranean restaurant they found. They're seated in the balcony overlooking the market and the sea when she heard it.

At first, she thought they were fireworks. She was about to joke that Italians have a weird sense of timing.

Who would light fireworks in the middle of the day?

But at the corner of her eye, she saw two bodies fall down. Then everybody was running in different directions, screaming, panicking.

One of the men in black grabbed the other fallen, an older gentleman and disappeared to the stairs.

It didn't take a moment for her instincts to kick in. She rushed to the body nearest her. A younger man— she could tell that he was Italian from his deep-set eyes, his stubble and bone structure.

No more than two years older than me, she remembered thinking.

He had a bullet lodged in his torso, right where his large intestine was. His body was going into a septic shock. And the guards around her were more concerned about who fired at them rather than the man lying on the balcony.

She remembered his brown eyes— so dark they looked almost black. She couldn't forget, how, even at the brink of death, they still look fearless, calm… exquisite. His eyes, his willingness to live motivated her to keep him awake, alive. They were the only thing that kept her from running away with the other terrified guests.

Olga and Italian guy were one of the victims of the stampede that occurred in the marketplace. Olga had been traumatized and swore she would never go back to Italy. They left as soon as they released Olga from the hospital hours later.

After that summer, she had never had a stronger MO to become a doctor.

But alas, life hit her like a bitch.

Sometimes she still wonders about the man and his dark chocolate eyes.

Did he live?

She hoped he did.

The creak of the door opening interrupted her reverie.

"Explain to me," Bianka announced, "Why do you insist on wearing black when you've got this in your closet?"

She turned around and sashayed towards her, fresh faced- far from the wreck she was earlier. Bianka was wearing her white off-shoulder peplum dress. It was the one dress Martin bought for compensation when he forgot to pick her up.

"Bright colors are not really my thing… If you want it, you can have it."

"No! After you have forced me to take that trip." Bianka whined as she checked herself in the mirror. "Stop being so nice for a change, Laura."

"Correction. I'm only kind to you. And Olga… sometimes… when she's not cranky."

"Did you call her yet?"

"No."

She got… distracted.

"What do you think she'll say?" She bit her nails. Olga could be pretty scary sometimes. "What if I told her there's gonna be free booze?"

"Ha!" Bianka scoffed, running her hand down her dress. "Even that won't make her come."

"But it's my birthday!" She pouted. "I want my best girls with me."

Bianka flopped down the couch where she was at. "For you my friend, I'll convince her."

"Thank you." She pursed her lips.

Bianka smiled and gave her a peck.

"Now, get out of here. I got some work to do."

Bianka got up from the couch and turned to the door, her ratty sweats in her hands. "I don't deserve you, Laura."

"Don't go sappy on me now. Get out." She grinned at Bianka blew her a kiss and left.

She went back to her desk and proceeded to finish her paper. When she was all done, she printed two copies of each and practiced her spiel.

With still thirty minutes to spare, she typed Sicily on the web and searched for activities she and Bianka could do. She cancelled the romantic getaways and listed her and Bianka's name in the Spa and the city tour. She was humming along the keys of Yiruma, astonished by the lack of guilt for Martin.

That must be a good thing.

Still have time to kill, she found herself googling "Cefalú Shootout 2015" again. But the results remain the same. As it had been for the past few years. The news only focused on the stampede that injured a hundred others. It mentioned nothing about the gunfire that happened in the restaurant. The Google pages ran out and still, nothing.

How weird.

How could they not report anything that big? It probably started the stampede in the first place.

There was a soft knock on the door again.

"Miss Biel?" Came a high, honeyed voice. She recognized the short, pixie-haired woman, her elfish face peering behind the door.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Marek is ready for you now." Marek's assistant informed.

Showtime.

"I'll be there in two."

She fetched her items and glanced at the mirror to check her hair and attire. "I don't dress for a funeral." She convinced herself, flattening the nonexistent crease on her skirt.

She made her way to the 32nd floor, her chin held high. She tried to keep the butterflies floating around her stomach.

This is it, Laura.

She held a conscious hand to her heart before knocking on the door. "Sir?"

Don't faint. Don't faint. Don't faint. No matter what he says, no matter what happens, don't faint.

"Come in." Said the deep voice from behind the room.

"Good afternoon Sir." She smiled, her brightest smile while clutching the folder behind her back. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah yes, Miss Biel." The man stood up and extended his hand.

She grasped it.

His office was 10x bigger than hers. But you could expect that from the top senior position in the company. He has its own adjacent meeting room, a large lounge area, a comfortable bathroom and a 360 degree view of the city.

"Sit down, sit down." He pointed to the sturdy chairs in front of his table.

"Thank you."

"What do we have here?" He asked, eyeing the folder on her lap.

"Ah, these are the annual sales report for the past year. Thought you might want to see that." She slid him the file.

"Thank you. But I don't need to review this to see that the hotel is thriving, Miss Biel." He supplied and leaned back on his high chair. "All thanks to you. You're the best in this job."

"It's only because I have the best team, Mr. Marek."

"Hayden, please. Don't make me feel older than I am."

She tried ignoring the lewd glint in his eyes.

"Hayden."

"How many years have you been working for The Regent, Laura?"

"Four and a half years this coming August."

"And you started as a server, right?"

"Yes, si- uh, Hayden."

"Then you became our receptionist."

She smiled and nodded.

"I like your story, Laura. It tells me that hard work can get you anywhere… Is it true that you were a med student? Before you came here?"

"Yes. I, uh, I was on my Clerkship. But I had to quit."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about that." The prick didn't look sorry though. "If given the chance, do you still wanna go back? To studying medicine, I mean?"

She'd been thinking about it. But if she said yes to Marek, she might not get that promotion. "I still think about it to past the time but I fell in love with hotels. I can still help and serve people here, without the gory details."

Marek laughed. "Of course, of course."

He stood from his chair, and patted the file to his lips. "As you now know, we're in need of a general manager by the end of the week…" He half sat on the table, his beady eyes on her. "And I know for a fact, you're perfect for the job."

Yes.

She tried to control her voice. "I will do my best, Sir."

"Hayden."

"Hayden." She repeated with a forced smile.

"Good, good."

Okay, can she go now?

Marek, once again, stood and circled her in a way that reminded her of a predator.

She heard the alarming ringtones going off in her head.

Please don't do anything stupid. Please don't do anything stupid.

She willed her heart to slow down.

He stopped behind her and grasped her shoulders. She flinched, but remained seated. Even as he sniffed her hair.

She felt the bile rising from her throat.

"Yes, good, good. You will be good."

"Please, take your hands off me." She pleaded, keeping her voice firm and stable. Her hands, closed into tight fists on her lap, to keep it from shaking.

"You will do everything I say if you want still want that promotion."

His breath smelt like cigarettes.

She tried her best not to gag.

But then, he licked behind her ear and she cracked.

She stood up, his chin hitting her shoulder with a loud thwack!

Marek yelped in surprise and pain from biting his own tongue. "Mah tang!"

She turned on her heel and threw her quivering fist on his nose. It landed square on and Marek fell down on his ass.

Her fist was burning from the impact. Hot ball of tears wet her eyelids. Her entire body, being, shaking from the assault. "You can have your promotion, you fucking pervert."

"You bitch!" He cried, pinching his bleeding nose.

"Don't ever tough me again." She hissed and with great effort, she ran out. She ignored the sly looks from the people she passed by and went straight to her office.

Sophia caught up to her. "Miss Biel? Miss Biel? Are you alright?"

She's here already?

She wiped the tear running down her cheek. "You found everything okay at my apartment?"

"Yes... Um." Sophia pushed her round glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Your luggage is in the lobby. Shall I send them up?"

She shook her head. "No. But can you book me my usual room downstairs? I'll stay here for the night."

"Of course." Her assistant gave her a wry smile.

"Dziękuję Ci, Sophie."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of the rotors touching down roused him from his dreamless sleep.

He sat up from the nook and took his seat. The stewardess proceeded to arrange the pillows and blanket he slept on. Mario has already been awake on the opposite gangway. The old man nudged a snoozing Domenico beside him who jumped out of his chair. His hand going to his holster.

Glad to know, paranoia runs in the family.

Business in Rome has always been a pleasure. The one-hour flight was almost worth it. But right now, he's looking forward to the day off. After the drama with Anna, he wanted to be alone. He craved it, like a kid with a candy. He felt like he deserves a moment of solitude. Away from the drugs, the prostitution rings, the guns, the people, and Mario. Especially Mario.

May be I'll take out the Titan this afternoon.

Of all the things he owned, his yacht has to be his favorite. It was his cheapest yet most treasured escape. Only a few selected people have the prerogative to join him there. He's determined to keep it that way. Mario hated it. Then again, the old man have always hated and avoided everything with the word "Fun" on it.

The pressurized cabin door opened. Mario rose from his seat first before a yawning Domenico followed him out the aircraft. He stretched his legs before he, too, was up on his feet.

"Hope you had a wonderful flight, Signore." Flirted the stewardess before flashing him a toothy grin. She was pretty and looked too rangy for a stewardess. Domenico must have picked her out the litter himself.

He ignored her and stepped out the threshold. The sun was blooming on the horizon, warming the sky in an orange bluish blanket. He inhaled the fresh and sweet Sicilian breeze, relishing it.

Home again.

He closed his jacket and donned his aviators. The sun may be pretty today, but that doesn't mean he stopped hating it.

"Massimo," Mario started as soon as he entered the car. "Montisanno wanted to meet with you regarding the new armory shipments."

"It's already here?" He asked, surprised.

"Yes. It arrived only an hour ago. They want to know if you wanna take a look."

Fuck. So much for the day off.

He gave him curt nod. "We'll go straight there." He ordered the driver who pulled up at the arrival area where a sea of people are waiting in queue for their taxi.

"Why are we going this way?" He asked, irritated.

The driver looked nervous and stammered a reply. Domenico stepped in for him. He shifted from the front passenger seat to explain. "They closed the private road for some maintenance."

"Out of all the days, they chose today." He grumbled.

"Infatti, no?" His brother muttered back, chomping down his gum.

"Where's your toothpick?" He joked, his voice flat.

He knew that Domenico was trying (and failing) to quit smoking. His "alternatives", including toothpicks and gum, were only making it worse for him.

He told him that if he wanted to smoke, then he should. They're all gonna die anyway, some way. And with their lifestyle, it's a guarantee.

Domenico turned to him again, his eyebrows wiggling. He bragged, "The stewardess has it."

His lips quirked into a smirk.

The driver slowed as a couple wheeled their push carts over the trolley lanes. A traffic marshall recognized their car and immediately stopped the other vehicles. The man was pointing for the other cars to move aside and make way. The man was wearing a very distracting tattered, neon vest. It was hurting his eyes.

He was staring forward, making a mental note to mention this detail to the governor, when a reflection caught his attention.

Everything moved, as if in slow motion.

But, not slow enough.

A black haired woman was arranging her hair in a messy bun. All the while, she was staring at his window. Her eyes, ever so gray and penetrating.

He felt his pathetic excuse for a heart, stopped.

The hair on his arms prickled.

He bolted from his seat and removed his sunglasses.

He spun on his torso, as they passed by her, unwilling to take his eyes off her, in case he was dreaming.

He couldn't speak.

He couldn't think.

"Che cos'è, Massimo?" Mario demanded, alert. "What is it?"

The woman was still staring at the car, as if she could see him through the back tint. Another woman approached her, smiling and pointed to the cab driving to them. The raven-haired woman broke eye contact and smiled at her friend. They loaded their luggages when their cab stopped in front of them.

"Stop the car." His voice between a rasp and a whisper.

"What?"

"I SAID STOP THE CAR!" He bellowed, his voice shaking the interior of the SUV.

The tires screeched to a halt at the side of the road. The impact forced Domenico and Mario forward in their seats.

He threw the car door and sprung from his seat. He ran towards the trunk and watched as she entered the cab. Her smile, not leaving her face.

He heard Mario and Domenico got out the car.

"What happened?" His brother questioned, his head swirling back and forth to his face and the taxi zone.

"It's her."

"What?!" Domenico walked to him, his eyes not leaving him.

While his, were not leaving her ride.

"Where?! Are you sure?"

His entire body was shaking.

He was sure.

This time, he was fucking sure.

The taxi was still stuck in the traffic behind them. He couldn't take his eyes off it. The windows weren't tinted. She was in the back passenger seat, he saw her removing her cardigan. She was laughing at her friend.

It's her.

It's her!

"Domenico, tell the second car to pick you up here."

"Massimo, be rational. We have-" Mario began.

"I don't care! I'm not letting her out of my sight." He was pulsing.

"Who?!" The old man looked mad.

He couldn't waste time.

The traffic was starting to move.

"Get out the car." With hasty footsteps, he walked backwards to the SUV. "Get out, I'm driving!"

The driver stepped down and away from the car.

"Look, let's be calm down for a minute here." Domenico amended and pulled his phone. "I'll ask Alek and the other guys to follow. I'm calling them right now."

No. It has to be him.

He memorized how the cab looked like. A white Ford Galaxy. The company's name branded on the passengers' and rear doors.

"Massimo?"

She's here.

She wasn't a dream.

After all these years.

Five fucking years.

She's real.

"Massimo!" Domenico called again. "Did you get a look at the plates?"

"BB 03813. The Airport Taxi company." he responded in a minute.

Domenico repeated it to the phone. "Okay, okay. Good." He hung up the phone. "It's one of Stefan's."

Cars zoomed past them. Nobody dared to horn; Everybody seemed to recognize the seal on the side doors.

"Good. Tell the second car to pick you up."

"But-" Mario interrupted again.

"Get out of my way or I'll run you over." He snarled, stepping on the driver's stool. His eyes anywhere but the nasty, senile man.

"You're gonna leave us here in the gutter?" Mario complained.

For a minute, he let his eyes wander to his brother. "Domenico…"

His brother nodded at him in understanding. "Alek has your back. The second car is on its way here. I'll make up for your absence."

"Fanculo!" Mario threw his hands up in exasperation.

He was never more thankful for Domenico than that moment.

The taxi took the east 92nd exit, he changed the gear to Drive.

He rolled the windows as Domenico hollered, "I'll patch the taxi's GPS on yours. Vai a prenderla, brother." Go get her.

He smirked at Nico before flooring on the gas.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I made Laura (indirectly) curious about Massimo too, that way they're both weird together. LOL. I would like to believe that Domenico and Massimo have a great relationship. 'Cause I know Massimo won't have someone he doesn't trust to watch Laura. ALSO, I had different versions of the ending. At first, I don't want Massimo to come after her, but, after five years of pinning? It wouldn't make sense to me if he ordered somebody to do it for him. Tell me if you like it.

Still interested? 😬 My original plan was three chapters only, but if guys want maybe (?) I could do more and cover the entire movie. ?

PLEASE CHECK OUT THE AO3 site and Fanfic I added in the title. I’ll be uploading future chapters there. It’s so hard here on Tumblr.